Like most women, I have a thing for shoes. But not just any shoes—sneakers. I wasn’t always such a fan of sensible footwear, but after years of teetering on stilettos while working at a fashion magazine, my feet needed a change. So I traded in my Louboutins for Lunarglides and never looked back.
Fortunately, it all went down at a time when it became acceptable—cool even—to wear sneakers outside the gym. Before I knew it, my collection of kicks grew: a pair for walking; a pair for work; my go-tos for running; a lightweight three-mile shoe; an ultra-plush half-marathon shoe; a rugged trail sneaker; a pair that matches everything; a pair that matches nothing; an all-black shoe, an indoors-only, all-white shoe; ones with lateral support; a pair that just looks cool.
My tiny New York closet overflowed with my favorite footwear, but playing Tetris just to access a pair of shoes isn’t as fun as it sounds. So I implemented a new rule: one in, one out—and vowed to never own more than my shoe rack could hold again.
Then I brought home the Saucony Kineta Relay. I was instantly drawn to the heathered knit upper that looks just as cozy as my favorite pullover sweater. The black and gray colorway didn’t hurt either, since I knew it would match about 97 percent of my black-based wardrobe. But I was really won over when I slid them on. Plush, roomy, and super lightweight, these shoes seemed to hug my feet in a way that felt equal parts supportive and minimal—like my own feet, only better.
In just a week, I realized these shoes were becoming my new live-ins. I was wearing them with skinny jeans while running errands and with split shorts on my runs. I’d reach for them for my commute to work but also for my favorite studio workout at the gym. Like the Swiss Army Knife of sneakers, these shoes do it all—and look good while doing it.
It suddenly seemed silly to have a different pair of kicks for every occasion under the sun. After careful consideration, I ditched three pairs that had been collecting dust in my itty-bitty closet. I’ll admit I was tempted to fill the newfound space, but as it turns out, shoes are a lot like lovers and makeup: Less is more.